


Here Lies Gabriel Reyes

by LAGRIENZO



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Blackwatch, Blackwatch (Overwatch) - Freeform, Blackwatch Jesse McCree, Blackwatch Reaper | Gabriel Reyes, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Romance, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gay, Guilt, M/M, Overwatch - Freeform, Sad, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Young Jesse McCree
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-23
Updated: 2020-02-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:07:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22854436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LAGRIENZO/pseuds/LAGRIENZO
Summary: This was the second time McCree found himself at Gabriel’s funeral.He remembers how distraught he had felt the first time, the pain, the heartbreak, the guilt. The way the others had told the story, it was some tragic accident. Reyes was just in the wrong place at the wrong time, killed in an explosion only meant to take down a building—a bloody, gruesome, tragic accident.It wasn’t no accident, though, McCree had known that much. Reyes had a plan, he was trying to do something, and he was caught in that explosion because of that plan—McCree was part of that plan. The pain and regret had hung in the air: he could have stopped it, could have saved him, and was practically responsible for his death.This time around, though, there was no questioning it: Reyes was dead, and McCree was the one who pulled the damn trigger.
Relationships: Jesse McCree/Hanzo Shimada, Jesse McCree/Reaper | Gabriel Reyes
Comments: 1
Kudos: 10





	Here Lies Gabriel Reyes

This was the second time McCree found himself at Gabriel’s funeral. 

He remembers how distraught he had felt the first time, the pain, the heartbreak, the  _ guilt _ . The way the others had told the story, it was some tragic accident. Reyes was just in the wrong place at the wrong time, killed in an explosion only meant to take down a building—a bloody, gruesome, tragic  _ accident _ . 

It wasn’t no accident, though, McCree had known that much. Reyes had a plan, he was trying to do something, and he was caught in that explosion because of that plan—McCree was  _ part of that plan _ . The pain and regret had hung in the air: he could have stopped it, could have saved him, and was practically responsible for his death. 

This time around, though, there was no questioning it: Reyes was dead, and McCree was the one who pulled the damn trigger. 

That’s why he had to be here. His last chance to pay his respects to his former teacher, his former  _ commander _ .

Everyone is seated and Angela is there, puffy-eyed and red-faced, giving a speech about how he’s in a better place now, an afterlife. Everyone is silent and McCree doesn’t really know what to think. He hopes Reyes might find respite in death, but he has a sinking feeling that if an afterlife exists, Reyes would still be suffering. The guilt is there, but the regret is  _ worse _ . He had done right thing… hadn’t he?

It’s not long before the slideshow starts. The first picture that shows is an old one, one he doesn’t quite recognize. Reyes is standing in the middle, Jack on his left and Ana on his right. Jack’s giving an American salute, face blank, shoulders stiff—Ana’s sporting a grin, an arm around Reyes, rifle hanging on her back. Reyes is smiling too, wearing his beanie, giving a thumbs up to the camera man. 

Seeing Gabriel’s face like this brings a hurricane of memories to the forefront of McCree’s mind. It threw him back into the Blackwatch days. 

o-o-o

_ They had taken his hat, his serape, stripped him down to an orange suit. Handcuffs wrapped around his wrists, trapped in the chair he was sitting in. Why was he here? Did they mean to torture him? He had heard about cops who did that, the ones who’d punish the inmates. Guess he’d deserve whatever was coming to him with all he did with the Deadlock gang, but damn it wasn’t it enough? It was over. Everyone from his gang had either been captured or killed—did he really need to suffer more? He was already looking at life-time in jail. _

_ McCree hadn’t expected to see a big, tan-skinned man walk in. The man was dressed in a cameo jacket, black beanie, blue jeans—he definitely was no cop.  _

_ The man took the seat just inches in front of him. When he spoke, his voice was gruff, deep. “What are you doing here?” _

_ Jesse just glared at him. He didn’t understand the question, didn’t care much to neither. It was already over for him; was of no interest to him to be cooperative.  _

_ “You hard of hearing, kid?” The smack happened too quickly for Jesse to react. His eyes were wide open, shocked, and the man began shouting. “ _ I said _ , what the fuck you doin’ here?” _

_ “I ain’t tellin’ you nothin’!” _

_ “Hm? Think you’re some kind of hardass?” The man turned and spat. “You’re here for many reasons. You’re here because you’re a poor shot,” he smacked Jesse again, “because you were  _ stupid _ , thought you could take on Overwatch outnumbered,” he took his thumb and lifted McCree’s chin, forcing them to lock eyes, “here because your own gang ditched ya, ‘cause they sold you out.” _

_ Jesse started struggling against his shackles, teeth bared, spitting. “You shut yer mouth!” _

_ “Wake up son and face reality: it’s over for you, you’re gonna sit and rot in this jail cell for years until you die.” The man stood up, eyes still locked on Jesse’s. “Or, you can join me. Get your act together and I’ll make a soldier out of you. _

_ Your choice.” _

_ Jesse sat there, said nothing. _

_ It wasn’t a choice. _

_ It was never a choice. _

_ The next day, he was whisked out of prison and put into another one called Overwatch. _

***

As the slideshow continued, music started playing. McCree holds his hands in his lap, trying to bring his emotions to a standstill, trying to get them to converge.  _ Reyes was a homicidal psychopath hellbent on killing Overwatch members. He had to kill him--had to!  _ But the words fall empty on his heart: they could have taken him, talked to him, could have tried to fix him. There had been a chance to redeem him, but now he was dead. 

_ Dead because of McCree.  _

_ What A Wonderful World  _ begins to play through the slideshow and it’s like a punch in the gut. It was a song that had much value to McCree, to Reyes, to both of them. 

**I see trees of green, red roses too...**

The words transport McCree to another world--no longer is he sitting amongst a crowd of sappy Overwatch agents, no longer is there a puffy-eyed Angela, no longer is Reyes laying down in a casket. Instead, the room is vibrant. Chandeliers hung high on the ceilings, brilliant red carpet, giant pillars, exotic paintings on the walls, a throne set at the far end of the room. 

Around McCree there are civilians, couples hand-in-hand, dancing to the slow, soulful music that played. 

McCree hadn’t been there for pleasure. There was supposed to be a drug deal going down, and Blackwatch had been sent in to stop it by any means necessary. The mission had been flagged as high-risk because of the multiple powerhouse gangs that were supposed to be present, and Reyes decided that he and McCree were the only qualified agents for the task.

They needed to blend in at first, dance with the couples, and that’s how McCree found himself amongst dancing civilians, trying to keep an eye out on his surroundings. 

**I see them bloom, for me and you…**

McCree found it hard to focus on the mission, though. In order to blend in with the crowd, McCree had to dance, and in order to dance, McCree needed a partner. 

Reyes had his arms around McCree, slowly swaying to Louis Armstrong’s voice. McCree could smell the cigarette smoke that clung to his tux, could feel the muscles around his waist, could feel his heart beating against his own. Reyes’s gruff hands were moving in circles, strong yet delicate, a small but powerful gesture. 

McCree’s heart was beating fast. Try as he might, he couldn’t stop the boner that sprung from the contact. It throbbed and pulsed and was pressed up against Reyes’s thigh. 

**And I think to myself…**

**What a wonderful world!**

If Reyes noticed, he didn’t say anything. The two of them kept moving slowly, turning slightly as the music played. Reyes’s nose buried itself into McCree’s hair, and McCree could feel him sniffing him in, taking in his scent, and if anything was to be said about the reassuring squeeze Reyes gave him, he must have liked what he smelled. Warm and tingling feelings washed over McCree, butterflies in his stomach.

**I see skies of blue. And clouds of white.**

**The bright blessed day, the dark sacred night.**

Reyes’s hot breath on McCree’s ears. His body reacted before his brain; shivers crawled down his spine, heat flushed his face and burned his ears. Reyes’s words came out soft, gentle, warm. 

_ They’re going to come. Left exit. Be prepared. _

McCree gulped, nodded. The words took time to register. That’s right. They were on a mission.  _ This was a mission _ . 

**And I think to myself.**

**What a wonderful world!**

They still had time, still had some precious seconds, and McCree decide to enjoy it all while it lasted. The song continued to play and the two of them continued their slow, steady pace.

**I see friends shaking hands, saying how do you do.**

**They’re really saying I love you.**

The words paralyze McCree. All the times he’d ask Reyes the same thing, the man before him now, the man he’s loved for quite some time. 

McCree still remembers Reyes’s hot breath tickling his ear, his question a whisper filling him with warmth.  _ How do you do? _

Things got chaotic that night. People were shot,  _ people were killed _ \--heck, there was even a car chase and a cruise ship teeming with bad guys.

Another success on Blackwatch’s record. 

But none of the stuff that followed could rival that moment McCree had with Reyes. McCree’s reply, quiet and uncertain, falling from his lips before he could stop them:  _ I love you. _

**Yes.**

**I think to myself. What a wonderful world!**

And just like that the song is over and the vibrant party is whisked away and suddenly he’s back in his chair, hands clenched together, one sweaty the other cold, heart hammering up a storm. Back into a world where Reyes is dead. 

The slideshow went on for a little while longer, but McCree long stopped watching. It hurt too much. He tried shutting it out from his mind. The tears, the hushed whispers, the quick glances in his direction. He wished he were anywhere else but here. But this, McCree knew, was his punishment. He had no one to blame but himself.

When the slideshow ended, the room became silent. Angela cleared her throat and began to speak. 

“Gabriel Reyes was a great leader.” Angela’s voice, usually sing-song and sweet, sounded hoarse and broken. “He was a strong, courageous, and smart man. But above all else, he was a determined man. He made it his duty to keep us safe. 

He did the work no one else would. Worked behind the scenes, was never given nearly enough credit.” Angela stiffened, eyes locked with McCree. “My only regret, in the end, was that I failed to save him.”

McCree stiffened. Her words shook him into place. She wanted to  _ save  _ him. _ Gabriel was worth saving _ . The guilt knotted itself harder in his stomach, like a noose tied too tight. 

Angela looked away, took a small bow, then walked away from the casket, sat back down. Soon Jack stood up, walked over and gave a speech of his own. Then Genji, then Reinhart, then Ana--all eyes were on McCree now and he was starting to sweat. 

He didn’t know what he would say. _ You had to be stopped. You were a highly functioning psychopath. You were no longer the man I once knew. I  _ loved  _ you.  _ He put his face in his hands. He didn’t  _ know _ .

But he had to say something. 

McCree found it hard to stand. His legs were shaking, palm sweaty, having a hard time breathing. He tried taking long, deep breaths as he walked up. He was going to do this speech justice. He would get up there and say it all--the good, the bad, the ugly, the everything. Gabriel Reyes deserved nothing less than the best from him.

When he got up there, though, he had trouble finding his words. He had made speeches before in his time for Blackwatch, but this was different: it was his speech to  _ Gabriel _ . Everyone’s eyes were on him. 

“I--”

Each face that looked at him held a piece of his guilt. Angela couldn’t save him, lost Gabriel because of McCree. Jack was denied the chance to talk some sense into him. Another one of Ana’s old friends gone, another name on the list. 

Overwatch would never hear his end of the story. 

Because he was  _ gone _ .

“I--I--” McCree’s voice broke. “I’m sorry--!”

McCree broke into a sprint. 

He was running.

Of course he was running.

It was the only thing he knew how to do. 

Past Angela, past Jack, past Ana, past the Overwatch HQ doors, onto the rugged road of Watchpoint: Gibraltar. 

He was leaving it all behind. With each step he took his emotions would ebb away, with each sharp breath he was forgetting, healing. 

When he finally stopped, he was standing on a rock that overlooked the ocean. McCree sat down and lit up a cigarillo. Hot, burning, a hint of cinnamon. Warmth flooded everywhere in his body, he became sedated and relaxed.

Until suddenly he wasn’t: Gabriel was the one who introduced him to cigarillos, Gabriel was the one who taught him how to smoke them.

Just like that his mind is whisked away by smoke and ash.

*** 

_ Gabriel’s office is immaculate: clean wooden floors, barren white walls, black file cabinets organized in alphabetical order. Gabriel sat at his desk, looking to Jesse.  _

_ “ You’re here. Good.” He turned his head, and lit up a cigarillo. “Take a seat.” _

_ Blackwatch had a difficult mission coming up, and Gabriel told each of his agents that he would give them hands-on training. He had taken his time getting to Jesse, though. From 6:00 this morning all the way to 22:00 he had been hearing stories from the other agents, one claimed to have learned exactly one-hundred and ten ways to kill a man and another said they were taught how to use thirty six different guns.  _

_ Jesse had his hopes high.  _

_ Jesse took his seat, looking expectantly at Gabriel.  _

_ Gabriel exhaled a puff of smoke. “You ever play chess, boy?” _

_ “Chess? Never heard of it.”  _

_ Gabriel pulled out a box. To Jesse’s astonishment, chess was a board game. A “strategy” game, as Gabriel called it. There were sixteen pieces: a king, a queen, two bishops, two rooks, two knights, eight pawns. Each piece had a different role. Bishops move diagonally, rooks move in a straight line, and knights move in an L-shaped fashion.  _

_ Jesse wasn’t too keen on playin’ this chess game, but he wasn’t about to say nothin’ to his boss. Instead he tried to feign interest. _

_ “What’s the queen do? Bet she’s useless.” _

_ Gabriel laughed. “The queen is the most powerful piece of them all. She can move in any direction, and often is essential to her team’s success. _

_ You ready to play me, son?” _

_ It didn’t last long. Gabriel won in two turns. He was shaking his head, muttering curses under his breath. Jesse didn’t know whether he should get up or not, so he just awkwardly sat there waiting for his commander to address him. _

_ “Jesse, I expected better. You lost in two turns, damn it. Two turns! Do you know what that’s called in chess?” Jesse shook his head dumbly. “It’s called the Fool’s Mate. I know you’re no fool, McCree, you gotta do better than that.” _

_ “What’s the big deal, commander?! It’s just some dumb game. Why ain’t we doin’ somethin’ useful, like shootin’ a gun?” The moment Jesse uttered the words he regretted them.  _

_ “It’s more than just a board game, rookie. It’s real life. We’re always playing chess, life is the board and we are the pieces, and somebody is always making a move.” Another cigarillo lit, slowly exhaled. “Of all my recruits, I thought you’d understand the most.” _

_ Jesse felt a rush of guilt. He hated disappointin’ his commander. He still didn’t see the importance of this game, but for Gabriel’s sake he tried to understand. “You said we all was pieces? What piece does that make me?” _

_ Oddly, Gabriel flushed before looking away. Jesse chuckled. He can’t look Jesse in the eyes and say it but Jesse knew what he was. “It’s okay Sir, I know. I’m a pawn. Always have and always will be. Sorry for not gettin’ it the first time. Ready for another round?” _

_ Gabriel, still not looking at Jesse, spoke. “We’re gettin’ up early tomorrow. Time for you to gpoopet yourself to bed. Think about why you lost, and tomorrow we will play again.” _

_ Jesse nodded, got up from his seat, and left the room.  _

_ He still didn’t get the whole chess thing, but he reckoned it was important enough to his commander to try and learn it. Jesse spent the whole night laying in his bed, facing the wall, looking at the small cracks crevices while he thought about it. The others had asked him what Reyes taught him, but McCree kept his mouth shut. Always was good at doin’ that, was none of their business anyway. They wouldn’t understand--hell, McCree barely understood it himself. That’s why he was still up. Thinking about each piece, figuring out why he lost, trying to think of how the game was played, how to make himself better.  _

_ The door creaked, light poured into the room.  _ Who would be opening their door at this time of night?  _ McCree decided the best course of action was to feign sleep. If it was some assailant, he could catch them by surprise, but the odds of that were unlikely--so he stayed up and waited, eyes closed and forced even breathing. There was grumbling, pants shuffling the floor, heavy footsteps that McCree would recognize anywhere--it was Gabriel.  _

_ McCree didn’t know what to do, so he just kept pretending.  _

_ Gabriel reached over, grabbed McCree sheets and, slowly lifted them to his shoulders. Under his breath, he could hear Gabriel say, “Stupid kid, gonna catch a cold.” _

_ The footsteps made their way to the door and then they suddenly stopped. Gabriel stood there, not moving, before he finally spoke.  _

_ “You are my queen, Jesse.” _

_ And then his footsteps receded. The door creaked shut and all was silent. Jesse lay awake, eyes wide opened staring at the wall, stunned.  _

_ ### _

_ They left at 3:00 sharp--McCree hadn’t gotten much sleep, but his body was trained for this. Peacekeeper loaded, blackwatch uniform on, on the first flight to King’s Row with the rest of the Blackwatch agents. Their mission was simple, yet very important: defend the point; there was important weapons and files stored and Overwatch had gotten intel that a terrorist organization were going to be there. However, this wasn’t a job for Overwatch--people might die on this mission, and Overwatch had an image to maintain.  _

_ So there Jesse McCree was, mentally preparing himself for the bloodbath that was about to unfold.  _

_ Hand on his gun--doing so brought a memory relaying back to him: It had been his first day at the Overwatch shooting range. He landed all of his shots, spat, then threw his gun to the ground.  _

_ “What do you think you’re doing kid?” Gabriel stood over him, Jesse’s tossed gun in his hand. “This is not a toy. You have to respect the gun. How else you gonna shoot?” He shoved Jesse’s gun back to him. “Best remember that, rookie.” _

_ McCree took his hand off his gun, silently nodding to himself. His commander always did know best.  _

_ Not much was to be said about the mission. Their intel was wrong, no one showed up and no one had to be killed. McCree was happy about the whole thing. It was rare that such a miracle should happen during their missions, but Gabriel didn’t seem to be as enthused.  _

**Author's Note:**

> if people like this, I'll finish it! let me know! i shared incomplete because I've had this saved on my computer for years


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